


It's Witchcraft

by aussiebee



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Castiel and Dean Winchester are Dorks, Confused Sam, Dean Deserves to be Happy, Dean Hates Witches, M/M, usually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 10:03:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10534200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aussiebee/pseuds/aussiebee
Summary: Based on the Tumblr post that's been floating around forever:'I want a witch to put a love curse on Dean and Cas and they spend the whole time acting like a couple and three days later they find her and when Sam demands she lift the curse she says "the spell only lasts for 24 hours".'





	

Sam crashed into the room with the help of a judiciously-placed kick to the door, only to find Cas already there, his hand wrapped around the throat of the young and terrified-looking girl standing in the middle of a circle of scattered herbs, candles and crystals.

Watching the scene unfold with a grimace on his face and his hands tied behind the back of the chair he was bound to was Dean, a deep red stain covering his bottom lip and running down his chin.

“Come on, Sam, get me untied so I can brush my damn teeth,” he groused, seemingly unharmed. He winced when Sam cut his restraints and then stood, moving to where Cas was standing and restraining the witch. He slung an arm around the angel’s shoulders and stared down at the teenager. “Now, wanna tell me what that shit was that you just poured down my throat? Because it tastes like cough syrup, but I don’t remember suffering from respiratory congestion when I woke up this morning.”

“It was a love potion,” the tiny brunette stammered, her dark brown eyes shiny with unshed tears, even through her attempt at defiance. “And it _has_ to work, I followed the spell exactly.”

“Sorry to break it to ya, kid, but you screwed up somewhere. Now, my angelic friend here is going to have a little chat with you about the perils of messing with powers you don’t understand.” He grinned wildly, allowing a touch of crazy to show, and turned. “Scream if you need anything.”

He and Sam left the room as the stuttered denials began, Dean chuckling and Sam rolling his eyes at his brother’s juvenility.

“Do you really feel okay?” he asked, watching Dean closely.

“Yeah, no tingles in my special places, Sammy, but if that changes I’ll make sure you’re the first to know.”

Sam grimaced. “Yeah, that sounds like a conversation I want to have.”

“Well, why not?” Dean pressed evilly. “I distinctly recall one night when you were about eight screaming the hotel room down when you woke up and your junk ‘wouldn’t stay little, Dean, it’s staying big and hard’.”

“What a shame it wasn’t a poison potion,” Sam scowled, shoving off the wall where he leaned and leaving the house, kicking Dean in the ankle as he passed.

Dean just laughed as he stumbled a little to try and avoid the kick, before settling back to wait for Cas. Truth be told, he was feeling pretty good. Not happy-in-the-pants good, but generally better. Seeing Cas appear in the room after Witchney Houston in there had forced the syrupy shit down his neck had been the best part of an otherwise-crappy day, and the ease with which (heh) everything had been wrapped up was a nice change on the usual ‘worst case scenario is just the beginning’ kinds of problems they’d been facing of late.

“Dean,” Cas intoned gravely, appearing at his side and startling him a little. “Are you unharmed?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. Nice timing, though- thanks for showing up.”

“When one is summoned - loudly - as ‘he of the surly feathers and scowls’, one is obliged to respond.”

Grinning widely, Dean reached out to clap Cas on the shoulder. “I’ll keep that in mind. Hey, you free for a bit? I’m going to use my near-death experience to guilt Sam into buying me pie.”

“I am available.”

“Sweet!” Dean rubbed his hands together, going to follow Sam’s exit before sticking his head back into the teen’s room. “Just a tip for the future,” he called, making her drop the things she had begun to gather up in fear, “if you’re going to mess around with potions, use the real deal. Cherry-flavoured syrup is a crime against food. Seriously gross.”

Cas was studying a sheaf of papers in the hall, the writing girlish and richly-flourished, when Dean took him by the elbow and led him out of the unremarkable suburban house, his hand lingering on the fugly tan fabric as they descended the porch steps together.

“Hey Sam, let’s go find somewhere that you can buy me pie.”

“Calm down, Diabetes Dan- why am I buying you pie? I was literally just in there helping to save your ass.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t. Cas did. And he doesn’t carry cash. She get in the car and buy me some pie.” He reached into the pocket of his jacket and tossed the keys to Sam, whose face showed clear surprise “Come on, Cas,” he added, opening Baby’s back door for the angel, “get in; I want to have a look over that spell.”

Sam just rolled his eyes at his brother’s general weirdness, and deliberately adjusted the seat as far back as it went in retaliation as Dean and Cas huddled in the back seat, intent on the spell.

*

The next few days were uneventful, and Dean appeared to suffer no ill-effects at all for having been force-fed the cough syrup of love. Cas had stuck around for awhile, just to keep an eye on him, but it had proven unnecessary. 

It was odd, though; as far as any of them could tell, the spell should have worked. The ingredients were all right (if disgustingly and artificially flavoured, Dean snorted), the Latin incantation succinct and powerful and the order of the spell as far as Dean could remember was ordered correctly.

“Intent is an incredibly powerful aspect to any kind of witchcraft,” Cas mused, frowning over the spell once more as they sat around the bunker’s kitchen table. “I erroneously assumed that this was yet another teenaged girl experimenting with spellwork; this seems to be something… more.”

“‘Something more’?” Sam asked, surprised.

“This is- or should have been- powerful and effective,” Cas said, something like frustration entering his tone. “The only thing I can hypothesise is that the witch was unfocused while casting the spell, or had a focussed intent that was at odds with the spell’s purpose.”

‘Well, I’m personally not in a hurry to go back and ask her what she was thinking,” Dean said with a cocky grin, arching his back in a stretch and running his hands briefly down his chest.

Sam watched Castiel as Castiel watched Dean, not missing the brief flick of his intense eyes when they followed the movement of Dean’s hands. “Neither am I,” Sam agreed, sighing and leaning back in his chair.

“I do feel like a nap, though,” Dean added, looking at Cas. “Wanna come?”

_Wait… what?_

“Yes,” Castiel said simply, and the two of them rose together and left the kitchen without further ado, leaving Sam sitting alone in bewilderment.

“What?” he said confusedly to no one in particular, then rolled his eyes and shook his head. Dean was getting weirder by the week, and Cas wasn’t much better, but honestly? Not the weirdest thing they had faced. That week.

*

A week later Sam and Dean were in the kitchen once again, Dean moving around as he cooked while Sam emailed their various contacts about some bizarre news they had come across, classic rock playing softly through the space that was silent but for keyboard tapping and utensils clanking.

“Hey, try this,” Dean said suddenly.

“What is it?” Sam asked turning to see, only to find Castiel had appeared, close enough to Dean to be practically encircled within his arms, and instead of making a crack about personal space, Dean was holding up a spoon to Castiel’s mouth for the angel to try whatever it was he was cooking.

Cas obediently opened his mouth and tasted the offered sample, his eyes fixed on Dean’s and unwavering. The persistent intensity between the two of them was palpable, and Sam actually felt his eyes strain with the force of their roll.

“I like that very much,” Cas said gravely, his tongue flicking out to the corner of his mouth, a movement that Dean’s eyes immediately followed, something like yearning flickering there.

“Yeah?”

“Very much,” Cas reiterated, still standing practically chest-to-chest with Dean.

“Yeah, smells delicious,” Sam called. “Will we all get to eat it some time tonight?”

“I don’t know, Sammy,” Dean said, finally tearing his gaze from Cas’, though neither of them moved, “it has a sauce with brown sugar and coffee in it- wouldn’t want to give you diabetes or something. You sure you want some?”

“It’s not dinner that’s going to give me diabetes,” Sam said archly, staring obviously at the no-space between his brother and his angel.

“Jealousy is an ugly colour on you, my friend,” Dean smirked, drifting even closer to Cas and sliding an arm around the small of his back. In a smooth movement that had a startled smile flashing across Castiel’s face, Dean had him in a classic dance position, their hands clasped and one of Cas’ hands gripping Dean’s shoulder.

It was only then that Sam realised Sinatra’s Witchcraft was playing, and he began to wonder. He watched, bemused as his brother whirled Cas around the kitchen, their feet moving perfectly together and Dean with a wide grin on his face looking happier than Sam could remember seeing him for a very long time.

He just grinned to himself when he was sure they weren’t looking and went back to his emails.

*

“Yeah, okay, thanks for checking it out” Sam sighed four days after the kitchen episode, his phone on speaker as he held it up between Dean and himself so they could both hear Cas’ report. He was barely audible over the rain hammering down on the Impala as they drove back home, both of them a bit beat up and weary, but otherwise okay.

_“I will finish up here and join you when I am done. Are you sure you are both alright?”_

“We’re fine,” Sam reassured him, even as his bruised ribs throbbed. “It’s just embarrassing that we were taken by surprise like that. We didn’t do our homework properly and assumed there was only one werewolf, instead of the entire pack that showed up.”

 _“They were very good at covering their tracks,”_ Cas reassured them. _“I, too thought it was a loner.”_

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Dean told him, squinting against the glare the headlights made against the sheet rain as they drove. “We’re a bit beat up, but nothing a few days at home won’t fix.”

_“Are you sure?”_

“Yeah, buddy, don’t worry about it.”

_“Very well. I will see you both at home.”_

“Okay. Love you.”

 _“And I you,”_ came the grave response, a moment before the call terminated.

Dean sighed heavily and settled back in the seat, flexing his neck from side to side before reaching to turn the music back up.

“Uh, excuse me?”

“What?”

“Right, we’re just not going to talk about that?”

“About what?

“That! That call with Cas?”

“Okay,” Dean said slowly. “It didn’t seem particularly helpful to me, but sure?” His confusion was evident.

“Dean, you just told Cas you loved him.”

“I did?”

“Yes, you absolutely did. And he said it back.”

“Oh.” Dean appeared to muse over that for a minute, then cracked a jaw-splitting yawn. “That’s nice.”

“Nice? You declare your love for our resident angel- who returns said declaration- and all you’ve got is nice?”

Apparently thinking hard about that, Dean cast a sideways glance at Sam. “I… love you too?” he finally said, clearly unsure what point Sam was incredulously trying to make.

Sam just stared at his brother, his exhausted mind whirling. “Dude, did you get hit in the head today?”

“No. Well,” he amended, “no harder than usual.”

They shared a ‘I hear ya’ kind of glance of mutual commiseration, before Sam frowned again. “Are you really not seeing anything odd about this?”

Dean shrugged carelessly. “Aren’t you the one always telling me not to keep everything bottled up inside? Can’t have it both ways, man.”

Knowing that ‘incredulous’ barely covered it, Sam stared at Dean as they drove through the night and tried to figure out what the hell was going on.

*

The bad weather was relentless, and being cooped up inside was making everyone stir crazy. Sam was finding it difficult to sit down and read, a pastime he usually enjoyed, and twenty minutes ago Dean had stalked past with a tool box while muttering something about tub seals and bearing kits on his way to the laundry.

After the bizarre moment in the car on Saturday night Dean and Sam hadn’t spoken about the event since, but Sam had been watching Dean closely. He really hadn’t been acting oddly, but Sam couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. He was thinking about what Cas had said about spellcasting and intent, and was considering going to see the witch they’d encountered a few weeks back to get some answers.

He was contemplating doing it just to get out for a bit when he heard voices coming from the laundry, and assumed Cas must have returned. Deciding to run the idea past him to get his thoughts on the matter, Sam headed down that way, stuffing the keys to the Impala in his pocket as he went.

He turned at the end of the hall and stopped dead in the doorway, barely able to parse what his eyes were seeing. Because there they were, his brother and Cas, with the angel’s hands gripping Dean’s hips and his body crowding him against the newly-repaired washing machine that was currently running a load.

And they were kissing. Or rather, they were making out like teenagers, lazy and slow, with Dean’s hands tangled in Cas’ hair and his eyes closed blissfully.

“What is happening?” he said desperately, more confused than he could ever remember being.

Dean slowly disengaged his lips from Castiel’s and opened his eyes, looking as though it cost him an exorbitant amount of effort to do so. “Hey,” he said through swollen lips quirked up at one side, “I got the machine fixed.”

“Okay, enough is enough,” Sam announced, frustrated. “That witch must have done something, and I’m going to find out what.”

“Okay,” Dean agreed easily. “Call if you need anything.” He used his grip in Cas’ hair to angle his face to begin kissing again, but Sam stalked across the room and grabbed them both by the arm, pulling them along behind himself and ignoring their protests.

“We’re getting to the bottom of this. Today.”

*

“Oh my god, I haven’t done anymore spellwork, I swear!”

The girl’s reaction upon seeing Sam, Dean and Cas on her doorstep should have been reassuring, but Sam wasn’t assuaged, scowling at her as he barged inside and pointed to the sofa with an order for her to sit. Dean and Cas stood too close together against the wall as they watched the scene unfold in confusion.

“This spell- tell me everything you did. What herbs you used, the inflection in the incantation, what you were thinking as you said the words. Because you’ve done something, and I’m not leaving until you fix it.”

Sam used his superior height to his advantage and towered over the teen until she looked scared enough to cry. She held shaking hands up in front of herself to try and calm his wrath and licked her lips nervously, glancing over at Dean and then back at Sam.

“Okay,” she said in a voice gone squeaky with fear, “I’ll tell you. Uh, for the potion I used rose petals, honey, cinnamon, cherry syrup and spring water cleansed by new-moonlight. You took my incantation, but you saw the phonetic notes I added for pronunciation. And what I was thinking,” she added, casting another nervous glance at Dean who was smiling slightly as he watched his own fingers fiddle with the cuff of Cas’ trenchcoat, “was ‘the next face you look at will be the one you fall in love with’.” She stopped and scowled at Cas. “But then he showed up right between us and it wasn’t my face he saw, was it?”

Sam frowned. “How long was it supposed to take to work?”

“It worked immediately last time,” she sighed, sounding more and more like a put-upon teenager now she was pretty sure Sam wasn’t about to go postal. “And as far as I was timing, it ended at the right time, too.”

“Wait, what do you mean?”

“I mean twenty four hours later it ended, like it should have. And not well, I might add. But seriously dude, all I wanted was for your brother to take me to the prom. One night and it would have worn off and no one gets hurt.”

“No, that can’t be right,” Sam disagreed.

“Well it is,” she snapped. “This isn’t my first rodeo; I know what I’m doing.”

“Then how do you explain that?” Sam demanded, throwing an accusatory hand at where Dean and Cas were standing shoulder-to-shoulder, their body language indicating an intimacy that their casual posture couldn’t hide.

The girl snorted. “What happens if you a tell a dog that’s already sitting to sit?”

“What?”

“A dog is sitting in front of you. Its butt is on the floor. And you say ‘sit, Fido’. What’s it going to do?”

“I-”

“It’s going to keep sitting, isn’t it?”

“What are you talking about?” Sam asked, incredulous and uncomprehending.

“Casting a love spell on someone to make them fall in love with the person he’s already in love with is kind of redundant, don’t you think?” The smirk was obnoxious, and Sam wanted to throw holy water in her face. While it was still in the bottle.

“She’s got a point, doofus,” Dean said suddenly, clapping a heavy hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Is that what you’ve been flipping your shit about this whole time? Me and Cas?”

“The fact that you just said that without freaking out or making some kind of ‘no homo’ joke is proving my point!” Sam almost shouted frantically. “You- this isn’t… Cas, please tell me you see the problem I’m having?”

“I understand your concern, Sam, but I believe the witch is correct. Your brother and I have finally reconciled our emotions within ourselves and shared them with each other. Perhaps the spell was the catalyst for this revelation, but I can detect no ongoing effect upon myself or Dean.”

He could feel how stupid his expression was, but ignored Dean’s smirking grin and stared at Castiel. “You’re telling me you and Dean are in love.” It was blunt, but it was the only way he could keep his tenuous grasp on his sanity right then.

“Yeah, dude, can we hurry this along? I’m hungry. Again.”

“When did it start?” Sam demanded of Dean, holding up a finger when he grinned and opened his mouth. “When did you fall in love with Cas?”

Dean flushed a little and shot a sideways glance at Cas. “I don’t know, man. Before you came back from Hell?”

Sam saw Castiel’s surprise at the confession and felt it mirrored on his own face. “And you?” he demanded of the angel.

“I loved your brother the moment he was entrusted by my Father into my care. But I believe my feelings deepened in Purgatory. Before then I did not understand what I was feeling.”

“Who _are_ you people?” the girl breathed, staring at them wide-eyed.

“Come on, Sammy; you look like you could use some pie,” Dean said kindly, leading his brother out of the house by the elbow. “Cas’ treat.”

“I will need to borrow some money, Dean,” Castiel replied, opening the door for them. “I believe I have misplaced my wallet.”

Dean laughed. “Hey, that sounded almost human,” he told his apparent-boyfriend. He opened the door for Sam who watched in resignation as Cas kissed Dean briefly before climbing into the passenger seat.

The usual teasing and innuendo filled the car as Dean pulled out of the driveway, and Sam suddenly decided that pie sounded like a great idea.

Maybe with extra ice cream.


End file.
